


stay for a bit?

by brazentruth



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Blood, F/F, Gun Violence, Person of Interest AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 08:17:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18616744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brazentruth/pseuds/brazentruth
Summary: Villanelle, assassin and asset, is paid to listen to Research. She gets the numbers, kills them, and gets paid. But if your partner starts asking questions to the wrong people, you won't have a partner much longer. Or a job. Or an easy escape from your former employers.Her ex-partner's contacts are pretty much all she's got to entertain her at this point, so she might as well get to the bottom of this via one Veronica Sinclair.[AKA the Person of Interest AU where yes, I know Villanelle is a Root Personality, but she has a Shaw-esque job and Eve very much has Root's passion and tendencies to put herself into harm's way, so let me be.]





	stay for a bit?

Villanelle spent more time wondering what she was going to have for dinner next than she did asking who she worked for. That was a problem for people who cared; she preferred her paycheck, her nice apartment, and whatever woman with good hair that happened to stumble into her bed over any silly questions her coworkers may have had. That is, until Nadia’s questions end up killing her, and Villanelle is suddenly jobless and on the run, away from her wonderful apartment and wonderful wardrobe as a consequence, and yeah, now she has some questions.

She’d run over Nadia herself, but Research had demanded her head on a pike as well. So she tries to figure out who Nadia had wasted her time writing notes and emails to. She had left behind her laptop, one of the only useful things she ever did; (that, and the fact that she wasn’t half bad in bed.)

She gets a name back after digging around: Veronica Sinclair. From her emails, she seems timid, knows more than she should, and cares, just like Nadia had. Nadia, in all her wisdom, had attempted to contact her because of her position close to Research.

In all likelihood, she had probably put Ms. Sinclair on Research's hitlist as well. Stupid.

Villanelle arranges to meet her in a hotel room 24 hours from now, and attempts to clean up her gunshot wound in a broken-into New York apartment.

She hates America. So _loud,_ so… dull. She misses Paris. What is the point of being broken out of ugly Russian prison just to be sent to an ugly American grave?

Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door.  
“Villanelle?” A voice calls out.  She grins. _Konstantin._ If he knows she’s here, they definitely have a sniper trained on the windows. She is not getting out of this one too easily.

“Come out, Villanelle. Promise you won’t be naughty.” He yells into the door frame.

“I _promise_ I won’t be naughty,” She yells back, behind a lounge chair, wound half stitched up.

Immediately, she turns forward and fires into the door, hearing a curse from Konstantin, whose shadow steps back to deal with the bullet now in its stomach. Villanelle charges, the sniper ringing bullets out and shattering the windows like he has unlimited ammo. The sniper misses, repeatedly; she always was the best they had. And she did it with _far_ more flair. A bullet clips her side though, not enough to drop her but enough to sting. Bursting through the door, she holds up the gun to a slumped, bloody Konstantin.

He’s not going to last long; he knows it.

“You know, you were my favorite.” He says, blood leaking out of his mouth.

“Shut up,” She demands. She can hear more footsteps coming. She doesn’t have time to dignify his last breaths with her time, firing wildly at him again and rushing down the hall.

_She just wanted to do her job._

* * *

 

Villanelle approaches the hotel room with a beat up face, a pink sweater that she is sick of wearing, and a sense of impatience that she has dug into the past 24 hours. She’s been so _bored,_ the last day. Discrete is not her style, but it has been necessary, given Research’s uncanny ability to know where she is, at all times. She’s never known how they do it, but she’s also not used to being the one on the run, so she’s appreciating their power quite a bit less.

Hopefully, Veronica can explain it, or at least entertain her for a bit. Villanelle presses her hand to the hotel door and knocks lightly with the other; she hears shuffling on the other side, feels the presence of someone pressed against it, looking through the peephole. Then a click, a sliding of a lock, and the door opens to reveal an asian woman with amazing hair that is unfortunately, up in a bun.

She’s older than Villanelle, but smaller. Her tiny frame is enveloped in typical desk jockey clothing: a blazer, pants, turtleneck. She notices the earpiece she has immediately. But she seems frantic and a tiny bit impatient as well.

“Are you Villanelle?” She asks. Amateur. She could be a complete fake, for all she knew. This woman has never been in the field, and it is obvious. She’s American, and a bit reckless. But she’s not helpless- she’s gotten this far with secret information without dying, and isn’t tragic-looking by any means.

“Yes,” Villanelle smirks. “I take it you’re Veronica?” The woman nods and steps back to allow Villanelle in. Veronica doesn’t fit her. It’s a little too.. "Stepford Wife". The hotel room is nice though, unnecessarily so for a meeting like this. Villanelle especially likes the throw on the bed. She approaches it and runs her hand over it in appreciation. The rest of the hotel room is in a state of disarray, however. A suitcase is strewn open, as if the person packing it got interrupted while trying to leave.

“Did you have a party, or something?” She mocks, shimmying her shoulders.

Veronica seems frustrated at the implication.  
“I’ve lost a job, my family, and my future because of you and your partner,” She states.

She can hear a faint tapping sound from the bathroom, and against her instincts, ignores it.

“Yeah, but you got a cool hotel room out of it, so…”

Veronica seems more frustrated, her eyes narrowing at her.

“Listen. Your partner, Nadia, got in contact with me. She had started suspecting something about our boss, Research. They know too much with no explanation at all. It’s as if they’re watching us constantly, with how much knowledge they have. It’s almost… exceptional, how accurate they are.” Veronica sounds, honestly, fascinated rather than scared. It’s odd… and attractive. She’s less fearful than someone in her position should be. The tapping noise continues in the background.

“I don’t care how they get their knowledge, I would just rather be off their kill list, so if you could tell me how, that would be lovely.” Villanelle lifts her gun, smiling, not wasting any time. She is not here to play games, though she’s sure, by the stare that Veronica gives her, she could if she wanted to. _(She might want to.)_

Veronica thrusts her hands into the air, shaking, as if she’s never done this before. (Villanelle is starting to think _she has._ ) The tapping continues behind her, and her instincts finally kick in; still holding her gun against Veronica, she starts walking backward, kicking the bathroom door open to see a tied up woman, wearing a gag in the bathtub. Yelling at her for help. Villanelle’s arms slump down, gun and arms resting against her hips in mock derision.

“A plant? Really? So what now?” She turns back towards Fake-Veronica, who already has a taser against her neck.

“This,” She whispers, as Villanelle sinks to the floor and her vision fades. She tries to grab at her, hands grasping at that  _stupid_ blazer, but she's already seeing black. The last thing she hears is that incessant tapping sound.

Fake Veronica, as it turns out, is a lot more interesting than Real Veronica. Villanelle just might have gotten lucky.

* * *

 

When she comes to, she’s zip tied to the hotel chair and can’t help but feel a bit impressed this supposedly meek woman got the drop on her.

“That’s rude,” she groans, fluttering her eyes open to Fake-Veronica wiping something off of a knife she’s holding. There’s a look in her eyes that’s determined, and if Villanelle got scared, would probably be a little terrifying.

“You know, I’ve read your file. You’re a psychopath with a rebellious streak, but not one big enough to question who you work for.” She stares at Villanelle, as if accusing her.

  
“First, I think if you went high enough, you’d probably find we all work for the same people. Second, never tell a psychopath they’re a psychopath. It upsets them.”  She stares back into this woman’s dark, curious eyes.

“Are you upset, _Oksana_?”

Her real name used like a weapon. This woman is sharp enough to know it'll upset her even more, and so Villanelle exaggeratedly pouts and nods, putting on her best puppy-dog face. She knows she’s adorable. Fake-Veronica carries on anyways, twirling the knife in her hand.

“I know what you wear, what you do, who you do it with…” Fake-Veronica says. She’s pulled her hair down, fortunately for Villanelle. _Much better look,_ she thinks, straining against the zip ties. They’re tight, but Villanelle also really isn’t trying.

“I wondered about your eyes, your mouth, what you must feel when you kill someone.” At this point, Fake-Veronica has kneeled between her legs, knife in hand.  She leans forward as best she can, head inches away from this other woman’s face. “I just… wanted to know everything about you.”

With her hair down like that and the stupid blazer gone, Villanelle can’t help herself.

“I would think about you too. Or at least, I could see myself masturbating about you a lot.” She catches this woman off guard; she can tell by the way she blinks back, breaking the eye contact and shifting herself backwards a bit.  “Too much?”

“No, I just wasn’t expecting that,” Fake-Veronica recovers quickly.

“So you kidnapped a woman and stole her identity because you like me so much?” Villanelle nods towards the now quiet bathroom.

She sighs. “I know it’s not conventional, Oksana. But you are hard to get a hold of. Now, don’t be a dick, and tell me where Nadia’s laptop is.”

Villanelle catches her breath at the assured way this woman swings her knife up towards her face, using Villanelle’s knee to steady herself as she presses the blade into her cheek. It stings just a bit.

“Wow,” she says, a small smile playing across her lips. “You can’t.”

“I can.” She presses deeper, blood seeping out and dripping down Villanelle’s cheek, the warmth shocking against the cool contrast of the blade.

“You know, it’s not in my file, but I enjoy this sort of thing.” Villanelle is full-on grinning, adrenaline pumping, and she can feel the energy between them pressing down like the blade against her cheek

“I’ve never done anything like this before.” the woman smiles back, a close-lipped smile that attempts to reveal nothing. Her eyes betray her captivation with Villanelle, however. They're practically shining with curiosity and desire.

"I know what I’m doing.” Villanelle can barely contain herself at this point. She pushes against the restraints, pressing deeper into the knife and getting closer to her would-be torturer.

“What is your name.” Villanelle whispers, a command, not a question. But the woman’s likely not listening. Her eyes are glazed over, as if someone else is talking to her. _The earpiece,_ she remembers. Then the woman shakes back to reality, whatever her friend telling her obviously ruining the moment, her mind focused elsewhere. 

“Guess our time is up. Your friends are on their way” She murmurs. She drops the blade into Villanelle’s lap unceremoniously , and the blood on her hands stains the handle of the blade.

Grabbing two guns from the suitcase on the bed, she turns towards Villanelle one last time.

“Eve.”

“What?”

“My name is Eve.”

Eve fits much better than Veronica.

Villanelle has already started working on sawing through her zip ties, but she isn’t going to get out in time to catch her. Eve is listening again to her earpiece, head cocked, strolling towards the door.

“I really liked you,” She frowns. One restraint out, she picks her gun up from the nearby floor, firing it at Eve, who, with a seemingly preternatural sense, easily avoids it.

“Don’t worry. I’ll find you.” Eve says, walking out the door with a purposeful haste. _Just when things were starting to get interesting,_ Villanelle sighs. She can hear the boots of men coming up the stairs now. Snapping through the last restraint, she peers into the bathroom to see if the woman needs finishing off. Eve seems to have left her alive; she's still breathing, the real Veronica. Just knocked out. Villanelle fires one shot into her head, blood filling the bathtub and leaving a mess for whatever poor maid dropped by after she leaves.

The steps get louder, and Villanelle groans in frustration. She has a gun, a knife, and now another goal: Find Eve. Also, get another apartment and different clothes. She does not have time for little men in tactical vests.

She turns towards the bed, grabs the throw, wraps it around shoulders for safekeeping, and heads out of the hotel room, gun in hand.

Villanelle has a dinner date to track down.

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is brazentruth.
> 
> I don't know if I want to continue this or not yet, but I like it.


End file.
